


the world would be a lonely place (without the ones who put a smile on your face)

by justprompts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, BAMF Sirius Black, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Halloween, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justprompts/pseuds/justprompts
Summary: Voldemort sees Potter Sr. - sitting on the couch, his wand out, expelling colored bubbles of light, his arms around two kids on either side - wait a second.Two kids?Why didn't he know they have two kids?Maybe one of them is Black's. His mind wanders on the possibility that this is the Longbottom child - they all run in the same Gryffindor circle - but really, how much does it matter? The boys are giggling, one of them sprouting antlers on his head.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 184





	the world would be a lonely place (without the ones who put a smile on your face)

**Author's Note:**

> Long prompt, on Time Travel - and how young Tom Riddle deserved better!! Light angst for his childhood. Please feel free to adopt.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Also, for this story, let's pretend the whole Trelawney prophecy thing happened around four years later, and during this scene - Harry is five, and Tom is seven.

Lord Voldemort finds the house with a painful amount of ease, and thanks Merlin once more that he has never had the strange desire to make friends - or trust anyone, really. It always comes back to bite you, ultimately.

Percy? Pete? Petty, maybe - whatever the rat's name was - well, he was rather useful. He would probably be rewarded, as soon as he could kill the Potter baby, and return back - oh, and the woman. He had to spare the woman, he reminded himself, because he really did not want to deal with whatever emotional breakdown Severus would experience otherwise. His wand pressed against the metal lock of the main gate, he whispers the simplest of unlocking charms, and he's inside.

Just like that.

He can hear music, and people talking, laughing - they probably have no idea he's coming tonight, but he can't bring himself to feel any regrets. He would feel guilty, probably, if he was Petty, he's decided that that must be the name - the rat, but he isn't a traitor. He's made his stance clear, he feels, and this is war. They're on different sides. They chose different sides. Its nothing personal. Its just - an obstacle to him, a minor thorn, which he will remove. After all, he is a soldier - a warrior, and there's almost nothing he's better at than killing.

The volume of music intensifies as he walks closer inside, his footsteps silent, and pauses a moment, looking through the window, in slight horror. There is - is that Regulus Bla - no, of course not, he concedes, unclenching. 

His brother, Sirius Black. 

Right, Voldemort knows all about this friendship. Too much, in fact. James Potter and Sirius Black. Who hasn't heard of it? His death eaters, even the more sensible ones - talk about it constantly. Its frankly tiring.

Black is dancing, laughing as he twirls the red haired woman about. Voldemort really doesn't want to think about how potentially hilarious this situation is, in a tragic way, because chances are - they'll all be dead in the next hour. Heck, what chances? They will die tonight. 

Potter Sr. is sitting on the couch, his wand out, expelling colored bubbles of light, his arms around two kids on either side - wait a second.

Two kids?

Why didn't he know they have two kids?

Maybe one of them is Black's. His mind wanders on the possibility that this is the Longbottom child - they all run in the same Gryffindor circle - but really, how much does it matter? The boys are giggling, one of them sprouting antlers on his head. 

He thinks for a moment or two, on how unnecessarily dramatic and - embarrassing it would be, to enter with the songs playing, so he flicks up his wand in a quick sequence, sending up an Anti-Apparition ward, a mild ward against Port-keys, a strong Floo-Blocking jinx, and finally, a wide "silencio" - stopping the music instantly and leaving a cool sort of ringing behind - as all three adults freeze in whatever they were doing and grab for their wands. 

They're hardly going to be much of a challenge to him, though. They're not prepared at all, and besides, he's laughably more skilled than them.

The door opens with a soft click, and he walks in, surveying the scene in the short moment he has - before the woman - Lily, was it? - sends a red blasting curse straight to his head.

If it had been leveled at anybody else, their brains would probably have exploded. As it was, he deflected it, reviewing his opinion on her a little.

Black sends curse after curse, all as potentially harming and similar to Bella's curses, and he can see Potter Sr. rushing the kids up - yelling at the woman to leave with them, who does so - running up the steps.

He focuses his attention on Black, deflecting curses from the other man, because his spells are darker than Potter's, and because he can sense the raging danger in Black's eyes - their whole family is fucking crazy, he thinks - as he stops the ceiling above him from collapsing, because Black has suddenly decided to roof it on him. He realizes its not just Bellatrix he can sense in Black's stance - its Walburga. While Tom Riddle hated her, Lord Voldemort doesn't, even slightly admires her for the storms of curses she bathes in, the duels she dances through, her sweetly sharp smiles.

He watches as Potter's wife curses loudly, running back down the stairs, wand aloft, sending severing curses at him - kids possibly hidden - and obviously, having discovered that they're trapped, and she can't escape with them.

He hadn't exactly wanted a fight this night, not really - just a clean AK to the head of the kid who's meant to be his supposed vanquisher - but he loves this, honestly, the rush and the thrill - the adrenaline pumping through him as the spells ricochet past in slashes, red and purple and blue and green and black - the excitement, because he knows he's winning, and most of all - the fear, the worry in his opponents' eyes, because they all know it too. 

His paralysing spell strikes right at Black, who falls down with a grunt and he makes to kill him - he's a right pest, really, and Voldemort cannot let such a good fighter live, only to believe in Dumbledore's ideology - if Black were less skilled, he could probably tie him up and leave him, almost as an example, of purebloods who don't join him. As it happens, he knows Black is not the sort of man to give in to grief before a problem ends, so it would be easier to kill him - but Potter's screamed shield springs him back a step - and he's forced to give his attention to the Potters.

They fight quite well, he begrudgingly concedes, Potter's spells are fiery - and thumping with uncontrolled rage, his wife's jinxes are - creative and very, very quick. He ducks easily as a stream of green light flashes at him, smiling inwardly - because hadn't Dumbledore claimed "the order doesn't kill?" - and that gives him a burst of energy, thinking about massive "fuck you's" to Dumbledore, usually does - and he sends a sharp stunner at Potter, who flies into the living room wall, his head cracking with a loud snap.

Voldemort has to give it to Lily Potter, she doesn't even hesitate once - or look back at her husband - just sends volleys of AK's and bombing curses - but she's tiring out, as he flicks his wrist for the last time, her wand flies out of her hand, and he catches it with a raised eyebrow.

That obviously doesn't stop her from picking up the huge fucking vase on the table near her and throwing the china piece right on his head.

Well.

The stupefy hits her squarely. He bounds the three securely, making sure to put Animagus modifications - Petty had told him about that - and levitates them to the corner right in front of him. And then, wakes them up - because honestly, his victory wouldn't be fun without them. He'll have to clear his tracks later - by which he means, kill - but for now, well.

"Renervate," he whispers, thrice, in rhythmic succession.

Black glares, growling when he wakes up, and after a second, Voldemort realises it isn't him he's growling at, but, "that fucking rat," - and he agrees silently, Petty really is a snivelling, cowardly servant.

"Imperio," he mutters, at a just-woken-up Lily Potter, who isn't able to resist at all - slightly disappointing, that - and walks up soundly, coming back with the two boys clutching her hand, one of them coming easily - the other one resisting. Smart boy.

Potter keeps yelling and calling for her to "wake up, LILY, NO!", but honestly, she's not in any condition to listen right now. 

Lily Potter drops the two boys right in front of him. They're holding hands, he thinks - with disgust - emotions like that really make him feel - confused? He doesn't understand, not really. 

He secures the binds on all three once more, the woman is crying - oh, honestly, he hasn't even tortured anyone till now - and Potter's holding her by the shoulder, her head falling uncomfortably - because their limbs are tied - on his chest. He can hear Black muttering apologies and how this is all his fault and he's so sorry - and fuck Peter - that's close enough to Petty, he thinks, with a mental shrug - he's sorry - sorrysorrysorry - while Potter's telling him its not his fault, and though, Voldemort really doesn't care what's going on with their heads right now, he sort of agrees. Black wasn't even supposed to be here. 

And suddenly, he's quite unaware as to how, Lily Potter stops sobbing - and leaps on him, like she doesn't have a dozen charms on her. Okay. 

Either she was faking the whole time and inching to her wand, or she has some seriously powerful wandless magic. Anyhow, she takes him a little by surprise - until he manages to hold her wrists down, and glare at her - incredulously. Does she want to die quicker? Because, he can arrange that, how was she planning to get out of this, anyway?

"You fucking - " Potter Sr. begins in anger, but he's cut off by a smaller voice.

"Leave her alone!" the taller of the two boys says, and Voldemort jerks his head in surprise.

What in the actual ever loving fuck - 

He knows that voice.

He knows that voice, intimately, the obstinacy ringing with the command - the glare which surely accompanies it.

"Tom, be quiet," Black says quietly, his voice trembling as he glances at Voldemort, who leaves the woman's wrists in shock, staring at the two kids. Both of them have dark, tousled hair, one has startling green eyes, like the woman - and the other one has - Sweet Merlin.

Tom? 

Tom? - but that wasn't possible at all - in any sense of the nine hells of -

But, then, he looks at the child closely, locking eyes with him - shelving through the mind - and Salazar, he recognizes this mind. How is that even - Christ.

( Ms Martha and Mrs Cole sit on the table, next to him, next to this child, next to Tom Riddle - and pointedly look away as, Amy and Billy grab him by his collar and push him to the ground - he watches as Dennis, who is five years older than him, steps with big, dirty boots and a smug smirk on his garden snake, killing his first and last friend, effectively - the cold, cold air as the boy triumphantly runs out of the Pub near Wool's, having stolen himself dinner - his stomach rumbling but happy, he finally had food - ) 

He scarcely notices the boy next to Tom, that must be Harry Potter, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly and Lily Potter moving towards them, Black crawling very, very slowly to the left.

( - curling up and crying under the scratchy sheets as the couple who adopted him, leave him back to the orphanage after a week of trying his hardest, with apologetic and condescending smiles - the feeling that he will never be good enough, never be anything but demon-spawn and that's where the memories diverge - )

He can't think - can't breathe - he hadn't thought of all this in so long - he doesn't notice as his wand tips lower, his arm going slack, because this, by all right, is not possible.

( - he doesn't recognise this next set of memories - this boy, this Tom Riddle hadn't vowed to hurt those people, to make them regret spurning him - this Tom Riddle had sat under the stars - hoping and hoping and hoping - and somehow, his magic had pulled him across - he sees the boy stumbling into the Potter Property, accidentally, completely confused by the turn of events - and suddenly, there's a tall, dark haired man, with funny clothes on an odd kind of bike that roars - )

He shakes himself - why was he here again? - the small boy in front of him is staring suspiciously -

( - the man has long hair, like the people who Mrs Cole calls thugs and child rapists, and he tries running, but the man catches him easily - and god, he doesn't want to die so young - he just wanted some attention, maybe an assurance that's he's actually good - but the man doesn't act like a violent paedophile - instead, he waves a stick, and suddenly, Tom isn't cold anymore - he feels warm and nice - and so he, falls asleep, and wakes up in a new place, which makes him scream, scared - until the nice lady with red hair and green eyes comes, and smiles soothingly at him - nobody has ever smiled at him like that before - )

He tries shaking himself out of this, it isn't so impossible - think about it rationally, he tells himself - Magic can certainly do this, can't it? - but the question is, did this never happen to him? - or it did, but he forgot? - or is this some version of Muggle Theories of Alternate -

( - Harry is the sweetest child ever, not like the ones he knew before, and sometimes, he just wants to give in to instinct and trust them all - but usually, that ends up leaving him hurt - so he doesn't, yet - and he meets Remus, Uncle Moony - and Peter, Uncle Wormy, he secretly doesn't like him much - but who is he to say that? - and Magic is real, he isn't a freak, after all, Lily and James teach him spells, James ruffling his hair and hugging him when he manages to levitate a book on his first try - he's hopeless at quidditch, and when he first tries it, Sirius and James laugh, which breaks his heart a little - but then, they laugh the same way at Remus and Lily and Peter, so he realises they're not laughing the way the others do, he doesn't need to be good with a broom to be loved - loved - he's liked and loved by these people - )

He hears the chink of a knife, which immediately ends his spiralling thought process - and he spins around, disarming Black of some knife he had gotten hold of - how is he even doing this with tied hands and feet, he thinks, frustratedly, that he needs reckless, brave, idiotic Gryffindors as his death eaters too - they just don't give up.

Okay.

Deep breaths. In, out.

He focuses on the boy ahead, and he has to know for sure - that this isn't some really elaborate and absurd trick,

"What's your name, child?" he hisses, making the three adults jump at the parseltongue.

There is a long pause.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the boy hisses back, quite reluctantly, probably not even realising the switch in the language, and the three stare, shocked, at the boy, Black beginning to point between them hysterically, like he's just noticing how similar they look.

Voldemort sighs.

Well. This is. Not something he had ever thought of. He had back ups, and excessively detailed plans - with millions of possibilities, but he had never imagined this scenario.

"Incarcerous," he intones, loudly, making both the boys huddle towards their - guardians? - yeah, guardians.

He sits down, heavily. 

What now? What the fuck was he to do? Black has stopped with his accusing finger pointing disaster, so, atleast that's comforting.

Potter and Black are staring with incredulously bewildered eyes at him, and the woman is hugging the boys. Hugging him. Or, some version of him.

Its baffling.

Could he have had this? He hates the question as soon as it pops up, unbidden, because he has done incredibly well, considering his situation - and its weak, weak, weak - he doesn't need people - he doesn't need anybody -

He should kill the Potter boy and go. That would be the smartest course here, the only one viable - but, but. Is he going to rid himself, or whoever the boy is - of something like this?

That seems... cruel. And, suddenly, Voldemort realises, its not that he's gained a moral conscience in the past five minutes, its more the fact - that he doesn't want to upset this. This balance, this family. He ponders for a second on whether to take himself, after all, who has better claim? But he knows himself, and he knows this boy will never forget - moreover, he would never, ever be loyal to someone who took this away from him, just after a short period of pure happiness.

He makes the actual decision in a split second, and he's surprised to see how easy it is.

He stands up, casually repairing the ugly vase, and walks out of the house.

He vaguely senses the Potters, and Black struggling and opening their binds, but before they can do anything, he drops the three wands at his feet, on the ground - and Black almost yelps in surprise.

"Get a better person for a Fidelius," he says, his lip curling as he thinks of Petty - almost finding their shock amusing. "Though, you hardly need it. Your family is safe, from my side."

Black and Potter are still gaping, their mouths slack jawed as he apparates, finding his death eaters - and telling them of the specific neutrality of the dealing with their family.

He dines with Barty and Bella, who are the only people who understand him, really, in Lucius's Manor, who is constantly complaining about his six year old, bratty son - while Narcissa ignores him, expertly and disdainfully. Ah, the Malfoy dynamics. They're extremely entertaining, he thinks, as Bella shoves food in her mouth, and talks graphically about how Roddy is in bed. Pathetic, according to her. 

Voldemort feels quite good.

He hasn't felt satisfied like this, in quite a while.

__


End file.
